One down, two to go

Today as I wave goodbye to the looooooong summer holidays and send my eldest child back to her maximum insecurity prison, I can hear a collective sigh of relief from the parents of school-aged kids. Most of the Aussie breeders I am friends with on Facebook posted photos of their kidlets in new uniforms this morning; much happiness from the parental as anything brigade. In my home I could sense the misery as soon as I woke up. My teenager was SO happy to see her siblings lolling about on the couch as she climbed into her scratchy uniform and grunted her goodbye. The little sisters return to their reform school tomorrow. If you spot a woman in a school zone on Thursday with a glint in her eye it could possibly be me.


Ripper bewdy mate

Happy Aussie Invasion Day


What’s That Skip?

On the eve of Australia Day I want to pay tribute to my favourite Australian TV show. When I was very small the only program I was allowed to watch was Skippy The Bush Kangaroo. Skippy was furry pretty and I believed that animals understood me better than humans. (I used to dress my dog in blue shorts and a red Top Cat T-shirt). In the days before video recorders and DVD players, my mother had to bribe my older siblings with lollies if we returned home after Skippy had been aired that day. If I found out I’d missed seeing an episode of Skippy my tantrums were spectacular. I’ve recovered now that I can watch episodes on youtube, but I still want to be Clancy.

Skippy, Skippy, Skippy my friend ever true. Even the theme song is brilliant.

Hooray for Dollywood

Today is Dolly Parton’s birthday. I have loved her since I could sing. I love her wardrobe, her lyrics, her accent, her hair and her au naturale feminine charm. One day I will go to her theme park Dollywood in Tennessee. Right after I visit Elvis in Memphis.

The Prophet – Single Mother translation

In his epic poem, The Prophet, Khalil Gibran summed up beautifully what is special in this life.


“a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, “speak to us of children,” and he said:

Your children are not your children.

You’ve just leased them until they are 18 on a ridiculously expensive payment plan

They are the sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

Well, actually Khalil I created them in my body, as a man you may not get the enormity of that concept. And as I recall they ripped right through me.

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

Especially when they are online chatting with their friends

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

Except when they haven’t done any homework or housework or don’t text you when they said they would, then you can give them a few choice thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

They surely do, especially the 14 year old girls

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

Even when their bodies are dressed like white trash bimbo pole dancers

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

Except when they are selling their souls to Facebook and tumblr and you are paying for the internet access. Then you can get your friends to spy on their blogs.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

Note to Lou: please don’t dress like your 15 year old daughter, you will look like mutton dressed as mutton. And teenage daughter will not borrow my ruched bright 1980s clothing.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

There is nothing you can do about breeding with someone who is located very far down the food chain, so don’t waste time regretting it.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and he bends you with his might that his arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;

So your scrubbing, washing and bending over backwards will go unnoticed by everyone except your girlfriends who understand the toil and the sacrifices of single motherhood.

For even as he loves the arrow that flies,

So I teach my children that love flies like an arrow, but fruit flies like a banana

so he loves also the bow that is stable.

All mothers must be stable according to Khalil. No drunken party animals need apply. That means I’m out of a job then.

Just for one day

Happy Birthday David Jones